


Say A Prayer For The Broken Bones

by lilacpages



Series: Military AU [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Angst, Depression, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Single Parent Michael, don't be alarmed by the tags, there's just a lot of emotional pain, this is not as heavy as it sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6653317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacpages/pseuds/lilacpages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were absolutely no reminders of the man he once loved in his house at all anymore, except for the locket and and a few pictures. They had been stashed into a box and shoved into the very back of his bedroom closet, never to see the light of day again. </p><p>That was why no one was allowed to touch the box. </p><p>Because it held the only remaining evidence of Michael’s dead husband.</p><p>And because Michael hadn’t been able to acknowledge any of it for the past six years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say A Prayer For The Broken Bones

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, wow, I never thought I would even write this, let alone finish it! 
> 
> I'm sorry for such a long wait. School tried to murder me and this fic got out of hand, but it's finished now and I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Shoutout to Shah for suggesting the original idea after I told him I was sad about the first part (Tim Hortons is a wonderful place to brainstorm).
> 
> Thank you to Angie for not giving up on this fic and HUGE thank you to Jess for her support and for being my beta reader!
> 
> This fic centers around the military, and around an actual holiday called Anzac Day (if you want some more info, you can click [here](https://www.awm.gov.au/commemoration/anzac/anzac-tradition)), which is actually celebrated today! I have no personal experiences of either of these things, so I apologize for any inaccuracies.
> 
> The title is from “Carry On” by 5 Seconds of Summer, and lastly, this is officially the longest piece I’ve ever written so far!

The first thing that occupies his senses after thudding to the ground is intense pain. It courses through his entire right side, immobilizing him as he lays there in the dirt. Next is the unbelievably loud ringing in his ears. The incessant noise disorients him and drowns out the sounds of the other soldier’s frantic yelling, the heavy clunking of their boots. The people and objects around him are overlapping and spinning in wild circles that have his head hurting even more before his eyes inevitably slip closed. 

He has no idea how long he lays there, unconscious, but when he eventually blinks his eyes open again, the only thing he can see are the legs of his fellow soldiers jutting out sideways from the ground. Their feet only kick up more dust as they run back and forth, and he finds it strangely calming to watch the particles settle back on the ground. 

He lifts his head slowly and his field of vision finally rights itself. The dirt that had collected on his helmet slides off and hits his neck softly, but he doesn’t even notice it because it’s at that point that he snaps to his senses. Panic grips him as he realizes there must have been an attack of some kind, and that means he needs to move as soon as possible. 

He rolls slowly onto his back, wincing a little as the pain that had just begun dying down flares up once again. Ultimately, he deems himself fine, save for a couple of bad bruises. He gingerly lifts himself onto his elbows, intent on standing up, but immediately stops in his tracks when he looks down his body.

His breath hitches in his throat when he sees the piece of shrapnel lodged deep into the middle of his left thigh. His mind begins racing, contemplating a million different things at once, though primarily, what the fuck he’s going to do about this. He reaches a shaking hand down to his leg and tries to wiggle the metal out, but as soon as his fingers brush it, a ripple of pain races through his entire body. He lets out a strangled cry and shudders fiercely, slumping back down to the ground.

“Fuck!” he pounds his fist angrily into the dirt, letting his head lull to the side, chest still heaving from the effort of moving.

The pain is hitting him full force and he can feel his body weakening once again. He’s just allowed his eyes to slip closed again when he hears loud shouts of his name, barely registering in his ears. A pair of black combat boots is approaching him rapidly and suddenly he’s being pulled upright. His vision is turning quickly and he can’t make sense of anything, even though the buildings and soldiers and tanks are all right side up now. 

“Hey! Ashton!” 

His body is being shaken roughly and it’s only then that his eyes finally focus on what’s in front of him; the young man with dark skin and dark eyes and a sliver of a silver chain visible around his neck. It’s glinting in the sunlight now that the dust has somewhat cleared. 

“Are you ok?” the man asks, and shakes him forcefully once more. “Fuck, it went off right next to you!”

His head swims dangerously for a split second, the panic setting in once more, before his brain registers who he’s looking at. He gasps, clutching at the man’s arms in relief. 

“Cal!”

And then suddenly, the world is slowing down. Despite being smack down in the middle of an actual war zone, Ashton feels safe. His best friend is here, kneeling beside him, and Calum’s grip on his shoulders is a little too tight to be comfortable, but in that moment, he doesn’t care in the slightest. In that moment, nothing can touch him. Nothing can touch them.

He looks into Calum’s eyes, frowns at the concern he sees, but feels revitalized at the determination as well. 

“My leg,” he mumbles.

Ashton tries to shift his body and hisses at the sharp sting. Calum’s eyes travel down Ashton’s frame and widen. 

“Shit.”

Ashton sees the momentary flash of fear in Calum’s eyes, but it’s gone in an instant. Calum immediately sets down his gun and roots around in the front pocket of his uniform. He pulls out a roll of gauze and shifts so that he’s next to Ashton’s leg. His fingers hover over the jagged metal, jutting up menacingly from Ashton’s thigh, before he glances up at Ashton with a sorry expression on his face. 

“This is gonna hurt,” he says, and before Ashton even has a chance to prepare himself, Calum is ripping the metal from his skin.

Ashton’s cries echo loud in Calum’s ears, sounding clear through the dust and mayhem. His elbows give out and his body falls back to the ground, back arched and eyes squeezed shut as a fresh wave of pain wracks through his body, more intense than ever before. 

“Oh, fuck!” Ashton grunts harshly, breathing heavily through his nose.

Calum sets to work dressing the wound but he barely manages to wrap the gauze around Ashton’s leg once before another missile explodes somewhere next to them.

Calum shoves Ashton onto the ground, covering his body with his own as rocks and debris rain down on them. He shoots up again as soon as the dust has cleared and sees fear in his best friend’s eyes.

“Fuck, we need to get out of here, now!” 

Calum grabs the gauze and stuffs it back into his pocket, grabbing his gun and throwing the strap around his torso before he digs his hands underneath Ashton’s body. He lifts him up bridal style before slinging him over his shoulders, taking off in the direction their truck had been before the surprise attack. 

Ashton’s head pounds, his body bouncing uncomfortably as Calum runs. He suddenly feels like this isn't real, as if he isn’t a part of any of this and is simply watching it all happen from someone else’s perspective. 

He lays lifeless on Calum’s shoulder, but he can feel a burning in his thigh, and groans at the realization that his wound has most likely widened. Calum hadn’t been able to dress it completely and now Ashton’s blood is spilling out onto his shoulder, seeping into the fabric and staining his uniform a deep red. 

It’s a colour he’s seen many times over the years.

***

The howling wind sends rocks pinging against the thin aluminum walls of the makeshift building that Ashton’s been calling home for the past six months. The sounds echo through his head, berating him almost as much as his thoughts.

He’s sitting on his little cot, legs curled up into his chest. The names of those they lost in the attack have just been read off a list, and Ashton feels like a knife has been driven through his stomach. 

“Hemmings is … gone?” one of the men says in disbelief, his voice holding the hurt and confusion they’re all feeling. 

Ashton stares blankly at the floor, unable to process the information. Luke was in their section, hell, he was part of their fireteam. It had always been Ashton, Calum and Luke, for years. He couldn’t just be gone. Ashton had talked to him just this morning and Luke had been smiling and laughing, letting out his famous contagious giggles.

His eyes drift down to his leg, properly taken care of earlier that day, and a hot wave of shame washes over him. He’s weak, he tells himself. So weak. He couldn’t even get himself out of that situation on his own, had to rely on his best friend to save his ass, just like he always does. 

A blanket is suddenly wrapped around his shoulders then, and a body sits next to him on the cot. Calum’s arms reach around him and pull him close so he can rest his chin on top of Ashton’s curls.

The tears begin to pour quietly from Ashton’s eyes. He tries to wipe them away quickly before Calum can see, but it’s no use. The younger man tilts his chin up so that they’re looking at each other, and Ashton is surprised to see Calum with tears of his own welling up in his eyes. 

“Hey, look at me. You don’t need to hide from me. You know that,” Calum says gently. Ashton nods and buries his head back into Calum’s chest, a fresh wave of tears stinging his eyes. 

“He was our friend, Cal,” his voice is barely a whisper, but the words ring loud in Calum’s head. 

“I know. But it’s gonna be alright,” Calum’s fingers brush through Ashton’s curls, the touch soothing the older man. 

“I just … Luke is d-dead now and … and what if it’s you next? I-I don’t know what I’d do, Cal,” Ashton sobs again and Calum rocks him back and forth slowly, shushing him softly.

“Hey, hey, stop that. I’m not going anywhere, Ash. I’ve been with you for fifteen years, you can’t get rid of me that easily,” he says in a teasing tone, trying to cheer Ashton up, and it works, kind of. 

At least, Ashton’s momentarily distracted by the statement. “Has it really been fifteen years?” he asks incredulously. 

It feels like it’s been so much longer than that, but at the same time, it feels like it’s only been a day.

“Yup. Remember basic?” Calum chuckles. 

A small smile breaks out on Ashton’s face. Of course he remembers basic training with Calum. 

The boy had been so confident and prepared on his first day, so eager and proud to be where he was, while Ashton had been a scared, wimpy little kid. Absolutely terrified, unsure of himself, on the verge of tears each time he was yelled at. He knows he’s not like that anymore, but recently, he’s been feeling more and more in tune with his younger self. 

Calum was always the strong one between the two of them. He didn’t break down the way Ashton did and Ashton had always admired him for it. He admired his passion and his courage and his will to continue. If Calum hadn’t taken a liking to him and stuck with him through all this time, he doesn’t know how he would’ve survived all these years.

Calum’s been his friend for fifteen years. More than a decade. Together they’ve been through it all, and Ashton thanks whatever God there is that he’s always had Calum by his side. When you live the kind of life they do, good friends are more valuable than diamonds.

Calum stands up and goes over to his uniform lying draped over his cot. He rummages around in it and comes back with a piece of candy in his hand, wrapped in pretty pink cellophane. Ashton notes with an amused shake of his head that it had been sitting in the pocket where Calum usually keeps his grenades.

“Take it.”

Ashton sniffles and wipes his nose with his sleeve, unsure.

“Isn’t that-”

“The candy that Michael sent me? Yeah, it’s the last piece. Take it,” Calum says again, pushing his outstretched palm closer to Ashton. 

“What? No, I can’t. It’s yours. It’s special,” Ashton starts but Calum cuts him off again. 

“Ash, I want you to have it.”

He stares at Calum for a few seconds, but he knows there’s no point arguing with him, so he gingerly takes the candy from his palm, picks the wrapper off and places it on his tongue. Calum watches him with a small smile.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” he asks. Ashton hums in agreement.

“It’s my favourite. Michael’s mum makes it for me from scratch every time I leave.” 

The smile on Calum’s face is practically radiant at the mention of his husband. Ashton knows just how much the two love each other. They’re practically soulmates, and while the thought warms his heart, it also nearly wrenches it out of his chest, because it brings back memories of all the people he’s lost over the past fifteen years, all the ones he’d loved. 

Not only friends - good, kind men who didn’t deserve to die the way they did – but his wife too. Her and Ashton had been married for just over three years when she told him she couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t keep on being a military wife. She said she was sick of Ashton always being away and having to do everything herself. 

And that was just it. She had only cared about herself. She never stopped to think about how Ashton’s job impacted him, how being away from her made him feel too. They promised each other on their wedding day that they’d be together “for better or for worse”, but as soon as worse came along, his wife backed out. 

They filed for divorce, and Ashton threw himself into his work in order to cope. At some point, he realized that he really didn’t enjoy it anymore, but it was all he had ever known, having joined at the mere age of seventeen, so he stuck with it simply for something to do. 

And now as Ashton sits here next to Calum, he’s bitterly reminded that he’s just lost another person. The tears begin to well up in his eyes again and he turns away from Calum. The younger man notices of course, and his smile falters, the creases in his face coming from concern now instead of fondness. 

Calum places his arm around Ashton again, holding him close like before, and reaches up to grab the silver chain around his neck. He pulls out a locket, one that he never takes off. 

“I never told you the story behind this locket, did I?” Calum asks him, looking at him with seriousness in his eyes. 

Ashton is confused for a moment. “Yeah, it just holds a picture of your family, right?” 

He’s seen the locket countless times before, and it always brings him great comfort to see the updated pictures on the inside. The most recent one features Calum’s husband, as always, and now their little boy as well. It warms Ashton’s heart each time he sees it.

Calum shakes his head. “That’s not all. I only ever wear this locket when I’m away,” Calum’s tone is serious, and Ashton doesn’t know where this conversation is going. 

“Michael gives it to me every time and makes me promise to give it back to him. He makes me promise to come back to him.” Calum’s eyes are staring wide into Ashton’s. 

“Wh-why are you telling me this?” he asks quietly. 

“I’m telling you this because I want you to promise me the same thing, Ash. It doesn’t matter how many more people we lose, we’re not going to lose each other. I want you to promise me that you’ll always come back to me.”

Ashton gulps and a fresh wave of tears spring from his eyes. He nods and Calum yanks him forward, pulling him into a crushing hug. The two of them bury into each other and don’t move until the last of their tears dry on their cheeks. 

When they finally pull away, Calum smiles warmly at Ashton.

“Y’know, I think you and Michael would be really good friends.”

Ashton chuckles. “You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true. Michael would like you, I know he would. You’re just like him. You’re both strong.”

Ashton scoffs at that. 

“‘M not strong, Cal. Not like you,” he shakes his head, looking away from Calum.

Calum leans forward so he can peer up at Ashton’s face, the older man turned away from him slightly. 

“How can you say that, Ash? You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”

“Really?” Ashton fixes Calum with a hard stare, a slight challenge in his voice. “How?”

“Because you always find the strength to carry on, that’s how. No matter what happens, you always push through, and you don’t know how strong that makes you,” Calum speaks with fierce determination in his voice.

“And now you have another reason to keep going,” Calum’s eyes are staring intensely into Ashton’s as he tucks the locket back down his shirt. 

Ashton nods at him, small but determined. 

He feels a sense of hope surging through him. He has a new purpose now, a promise, and he doesn’t intend to ever break it.

But it’s Calum who goes back on his word, when just one week later, his name is the first one announced from the list. 

 

_-6 years later-_

 

It’s pitch black in his room when Ashton jolts awake with a ragged, terrified gasp. His chest feels like it’s on fire because can’t get enough air into his lungs. He’s taking long, shuddering breaths as his eyes dart frantically around the room. Sheer panic is coursing through his veins as he reaches blindly for the switch of his lamp, fumbling to untangle himself from his blankets. When the soft light finally floods his room, it does little to help calm him.

His heart is pounding against his chest. The hard rhythmic pulse of it is so loud in his ears, echoing through his body and clouding his brain. He’s still gasping for breath as he takes in his surroundings, but the familiarity of his bedroom is setting in and it helps curb the fear that’s still gripping him. He registers, faintly, that it’s raining hard outside his window.

There's a storm going on and the sudden crack of thunder makes him gasp frantically again, sets his whole body shaking fiercely. He stumbles out of bed and down the stairs on wobbly legs, one goal in mind. 

Once he reaches the kitchen, he yanks the phone off its charger and jabs at the buttons, dialing the number he knows off by heart. It rings quietly in his ear as he leans against the kitchen counter. He’s hoping and praying that the person he’s calling will pick up. 

The clock on the oven tells him it’s 3:17 am, and it occurs to him then that his friend is most likely not even awake to hear the phone ringing. 

Panic takes over again for a fraction of a second before there’s a rustling sound in his ear, and a groggy voice speaks into the receiver.

“Hello?” 

Ashton lets out a huge sigh of relief. 

“Michael, thank God! I’m sorry to wake you, I know it’s late, but I-” he stops as the images suddenly come flashing behind his eyes again. He squeezes them shut tightly, but it only makes it worse.

_He’s standing in an open field with absolutely nothing surrounding him except white mist. It’s swirling in the air and obscuring his view. He can barely see three feet in front of him._

_He can hear him calling. He can hear Calum’s voice cutting clear and frenzied through the mist. He can hear him begging Ashton to help him. The pain in his voice cuts like a knife into Ashton’s heart. He can hear his best friend in danger and he can’t do anything about it._

_Ashton tries to move, but he’s held back by some invisible rope. Its hold on him is strong, anchors him to the spot. He pulls against it, fights desperately, but it just digs into him, scratching and tearing at his skin. Red gashes litter his body as he calls out to Calum, shouting for his friend until his voice is hoarse and his throat aches with the rawness of it._

_After what feels like hours, Calum’s voice disappears and the mist clears a little. Ashton can see a figure in the distance, and it’s coming closer to him._

_Calum is there, suddenly, standing only a few feet away from him. There’s a bright smile on his face that makes his cheeks look squishy and soft. He’s reaching his hand out to Ashton and the ropes are falling away, the marks fading slowly as Ashton reaches for him too._

_And then a gunshot sounds, impossibly loud in his ears and he sees it all happen right in front of him. Calum crumples to the ground and his hand lays limp. The blood pours out of his head and pools at Ashton’s feet-_

-And that’s when he woke up, with a deep, piercing pain in his chest.

“Fuck, I-I had another nightmare,” Ashton chokes on the last word and it comes out quiet and strangled. 

He wipes at his face and is mildly surprised at the wetness he finds there. He doesn’t know when the tears had started and frankly, he hadn’t even noticed them until now. 

“Oh, Ashton,” Michael’s voice sounds instantly more awake. “Hey, it’s okay, it wasn’t real. I’m here with you, Ash,” he says soothingly, the sympathy and concern evident in the softness of his tone. 

A few sobs wrack Ashton’s body as he lets Michael gently speak some more words of encouragement to him. The soft sound of his best friend’s voice eventually slows his heart rate to one that isn’t a cause for concern. Michael goes through the motions with him as they breathe deeply together. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Michael asks quietly, now that he can tell Ashton is in a better state. 

Ashton takes another deep breath and exhales a little shakily, before he mumbles, “It was about Calum.”

He hears Michael’s breath hitch through the phone and subconsciously bites his lip. There’s a brief moment of tension between the two of them, but it’s over before Ashton can even blink. 

Michael softly urges him to continue, so Ashton starts to recall the details of his nightmare, and his friend works through it with him, staying strong for Ashton even though he can hear the subtle quiver in Michael’s voice. 

“I can’t forget him, Mikey.”

The words are uttered within a single breath, nothing more than a whisper, but they echo throughout Ashton's empty house as loud as the thunder outside. He’s lost count of how many times he’s said them. 

“I know,” Michael sighs, but it’s not frustrated. It’s understanding. It’s empathetic. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay, Ash,” and those words mean everything to Ashton right now, so he whispers them back to Michael, trying to convey just how much he really means them.

After a few more small exchanges, they say their goodbyes and Ashton takes a moment to lean his head back against the kitchen doorframe. His mind is racing but at the same time, his whole body is calm. Michael has that effect on him. 

His feet take him to the living room without much thought and his eyes immediately fall on the numerous picture frames sitting on the table and the fireplace. Many faces look back at him - his parents, his own, Michael’s, but the one that really stands out to him right now is the face of a young man. A young man with chocolate brown eyes and dark hair and a smile that could light up the sky. 

It’s his favourite picture of Calum, taken almost twenty years ago now. He shakes his head as he stares at him and Calum in the picture, both with muscular bodies and youthful smiles on their faces. He chuckles a little at the first observation. He’s kept himself in relatively good shape if he does say so himself, the intense military routine never having quite left him, but he’s definitely not eighteen anymore. 

His heart aches for a moment as a wave of longing washes over him. He misses Calum. He misses him so much. He can feel the tears springing to his eyes again, but this time, they aren’t caused by fear. 

Ashton’s eyes fall on another picture, this one of himself, with his arm slung around a blonde man who looks to be about the same age as him. Ashton looks considerably older than in the other picture, as this one was taken only a year ago. He remembers that day so vividly, how happy Matthew was at his birthday party, how genuine Michael’s smile was on that day.

He remembers silently admiring Michael for how much he cared for his son, and then his heart sinks again at the thought of Michael raising the little boy all by himself. Ashton’s knees suddenly feel weak and he sinks to the floor as his eyes flick between the two frames still clutched in his hands. 

Michael had practically thrown himself into being a father after Calum died. To anyone else, it looked like he was simply just trying to do right by his son, but Ashton knew it was more than that. Ashton was closer to Michael than anyone else and he knew how desperately Michael had tried to keep himself busy those first few years.

Those are the ones he’ll never forget, Ashton thinks as he sits there on the floor of his living room, the dim light from the lamp reflecting off the windows. Those are the years that solidified their friendship.

Normally, people don’t see the private side of one another until they’ve known each other for some time, but with Ashton and Michael, it wasn’t like that. Ashton met Michael when he was at his worst, the day of Calum’s funeral. Calum had told him so many stories about Michael but the two had never met, since Ashton lived on the other side of Australia. But after Calum died, a lot of things changed. 

Ashton had decided to resign from service and move across the country, needing to be away from his current situation. He had gone to the funeral and instantly recognized Michael, the image of his face in the tiny locket flashing behind his eyes. Michael had known him instantly as well, no doubt from the number of times Calum had talked about Ashton. 

No one else had known Calum the way Michael did, except for Ashton, and so no one had truly understood Michael’s pain, except for Ashton. The two hadn’t even really said anything about Calum on that day, there was no need. They both seemed to understand each other. 

But it wasn’t like that nowadays. They didn’t talk about him, save for nights like this, when it was unavoidable. Ashton never entertained the thought of getting rid of Calum for a second, not like Michael did. Six years later and Ashton still proudly displays all the pictures in his house, still tells strangers about his friend when they ask, still sees his friend’s face in his dreams at night. 

It’s a touchy subject for both of them, but it’s one that neither of them can escape, and that’s why Ashton knows Michael will always be there. They helped each other through the worst of it, back when they had only just begun their friendship. Calum had always told Ashton with a fond smile on his face, that he and Michael would be great friends, and it still rings true to this day. 

“You were right, Cal. You always were,” a tear slips past Ashton’s eye as he whispers into the still air around him. 

He drops his head and his gaze falls on the jagged scar on his left thigh. He thinks about Calum and about Michael as his fingers graze absentmindedly over the mark. Calum had calmed him on that day, the same way that Michael’s voice had calmed him on the phone earlier. He doesn’t know where he’d be today without Michael and the thought scares him a little. Michael had his own demons to deal with all those years ago, and yet, there was never a moment where he wasn’t there for Ashton as he grieved. And even now, with Michael trying so desperately to close his wounds, he willingly opens them up again when Ashton needs him to.

He knows Michael is hurting, can see right through him, no matter how much of a facade he puts up. It pains him to see Michael like this, even after all these years.

He goes back to bed that night with the desperate wish to help Michael, in whatever way he can. 

***

Michael wakes up to the ringing of his alarm clock, cursing the damn thing for interrupting his sleep, though if he’s being honest, it wasn’t doing him much good anyway. These days, he’s lucky if he sleeps more than three straight hours a night. 

The only thing he wants to do right now is turn over and close his eyes again, but he knows that it’s pointless, since he won’t drift off back to sleep. No, if he stays in bed, he’ll just end up staring blankly at the white ceiling of his room, asking himself over and over if there’s really a point to moving. 

Instead, he opts for swinging his legs off the side of the bed and sitting up, letting out a groan. His muscles are aching, but it’s certainly nothing new to him. The stiffness and subtle burning in his joints have been plaguing him for nearly six years now. Michael knows it’s not entirely to do with the fact that he’s getting older. He can’t remember a recent day where he wasn’t in some kind of pain. 

He rubs a hand over his face and lets out a final sigh before standing up and stumbling his way down the hall towards his son’s room. He shuts off the night light in the hallway as he goes, the one that he doesn’t tease his boy about still needing even though he’s just short of nine years old now. 

His door is open slightly and as he enters the room quietly, a gentle smile spreads across his face.

The boy is wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, pulled up to his chin so that only the tip of his nose and his softly fluttering eyes are visible. His little body moves up and down slowly with his deep breaths. 

He looks so peaceful that Michael feels a little bad about having to wake him, but he knows that time is ticking and they need to start getting ready if they’re going to make it on time for school and work. 

“Matthew, come on buddy, it’s time to get up,” Michael says sweetly, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder and shaking gently.

He gazes at his son with so much fondness in his eyes as the little boy stirs awake and begins rubbing his eyes. There’s a scowl on his face, but it instantly melts away when he sees his father. 

“Don’t wanna get up,” he mumbles with a smile, turning away from Michael and trying to go back to sleep.

Michael chuckles and decides to use his ultimate weapon, the one he knows will make his boy jump out of bed instantly. 

“But if you don’t get out of bed, how will you see Ashton tonight?”

And just as expected, Matthew whips his head around to look at Michael with a wide smile on his face. 

“Ashton’s coming over tonight?” his voice rings with hope, like that’s the best news he’s heard in years, despite seeing Ashton less than three days ago.

Michael nods with a smirk on his face. Matthew jumps out of bed and starts pulling clothes out of his drawers, making Michael chuckle before he kisses the top of his head and leaves to prepare Matthew’s cereal.

*** 

The doorbell rings at precisely 6:00 pm and Michael chuckles for the millionth time at Ashton’s attention to timing. He’s never been late once since Michael’s known him, a trait he learned in the military that’s stuck with him even after all these years. 

Matthew’s footsteps come barreling down the stairs and his voice is crying “Ashton’s here!” over and over like a chant. He flings the door open and there’s Ashton, standing on the front porch with a bag full of groceries in his hands and a radiant smile on his face. Matthew wraps his arms around his waist and hugs him before he even has a chance to step inside, but Ashton just smiles even wider and maneuvers the bag around so he can properly hug the little boy.

“What’s all this, huh?” Michael inquires as he takes the bag from Ashton. 

“Bought some stuff for dinner tonight. Thought we could make lasagna since it’s a Friday and we’ve got time,” Ashton grins.

“Aww thanks man, you didn’t have to do that,” Michael’s smiling wide, peering into the bag and back at Ashton with a fond smile on his face. 

Ashton simply shakes his head and waves off Michael’s comment, his lips stretched with an equally fond smile. 

Within a few minutes, the two of them are sliding around the linoleum kitchen floors as they work around each other, pulling pots and spices from the various cupboards. Matthew’s in the living room, staring transfixed at the TV as some cartoon plays. 

The kitchen is warm from the heat of the oven, and the smell of pasta and tomato sauce is filling the small space. Ashton’s busy mixing the ricotta cheese and all the spices together and it smells amazing. He grins when Michaels says so.

“Could you pass me the-” Michael starts but Ashton’s already placing it in his hands before he can finish his sentence. 

They fall back into their comfortable rhythm and even though things are a bit hectic in the kitchen with all the different pots bubbling away on the stove and all the bowls and ingredients strewn around the counters, they never clash, not even once. 

He and Ashton have always worked well together, from the first day they met. Something between the two of them just clicks, and they’re always able to co-exist without any issue at all. 

Michael glances over his shoulder to see Ashton grating cheese and he quickly ducks under his arm to grab a handful of it. Ashton smacks his arm away and scolds him as Michael shoves the cheese into his mouth, a cheeky grin on his face, but Michael knows Ashton’s not really mad at him, since there’s a smile on his face too as he shakes his head. 

*** 

About an hour later, the oven makes a beeping sound, signalling the lasagna is done cooking. They down the last swigs of the beers they had both been drinking and move to the kitchen, Michael grabbing oven mitts and Ashton grabbing plates and cutlery to set the table. He knows where everything is, having done this many many times before. It’s their Friday night tradition after all. 

Michael calls out to Matthew, who had run off earlier to play upstairs, but pauses when he doesn’t hear his son’s usual yell of recognition. He shares a glance with Ashton, who shrugs at him, before he moves towards the stairs. 

“Matthew, did you hear me? Dinner’s ready, bud-” Michael calls out once he’s at the top of the stairs, but stops in his tracks when he spots the open door of the master bedroom. 

Matthew’s sitting on the floor with his back to Michael and there’s an open box in front of him. Multiple pictures are scattered across the carpeted floor, along with some papers and a very old wallet. 

Michael’s heart really stops though when he steps into the room cautiously and sees what his son is holding. 

The oval locket looks too big in his son’s tiny hands and the silver chain hangs down to the ground as Matthew stares curiously at the picture inside. 

A flash of fear strikes through Michael’s entire body.

“Matthew!” Michael snaps and Matthew whips around with fear in his eyes, knowing just from his father’s tone of voice that he’s in big trouble. 

Michael’s snatching the locket out of Matthew’s hands and closing it harshly, the tiny metallic noise of the clasp shutting ringing through the space. 

He can’t look at the picture, tears his eyes away before he catches more than a glimpse of it. He can’t look at the man standing next to him in the photo. He doesn’t want to recall the way his husband once looked at him, the way he once looked at their son. It’s all too painful now. It’s been too painful for the last six years. 

“What are you doing?! You know you’re not supposed to be touching this stuff!” 

Matthew starts to babble on about how he was only looking, but Michael won’t hear any of it. 

“Downstairs, now! And don’t let me catch you with any of this again, alright?” 

The sad pout on Matthew’s face admittedly twists Michael’s stomach with guilt, but his rule still stands. Matthew is not allowed to touch that box. No one is.

His son starts down the stairs with his head hanging, and Michael’s heart clenches as he bends down to start picking up the spilled items. There’s a reason that no one is allowed to touch the box and it’s one that makes the pain bubble up in his chest, constricting his throat until he feels like he’s going to pass out from lack of oxygen.

Michael had tried so hard to forget it all. The day after the funeral, he had broken down upon seeing the extra toothbrush on the bathroom counter and just began shoving all of Calum’s belongings into plastic trash bags. Everything from his worn out slippers to his favourite books to the little post it notes he always left around the house with messages for Michael. There were absolutely no reminders of the man he once loved in his house at all anymore, except for the locket and and a few pictures. They had been stashed into a box and shoved into the very back of his bedroom closet, never to see the light of day again. 

That was why no one was allowed to touch the box. 

Because it held the only remaining evidence of Michael’s dead husband.

And because Michael hadn’t been able to acknowledge any of it for the past six years. 

He shuts his eyes tight as he picks up the various photos spread out on the carpet. His fingers fumble around blindly, trembling slightly at the mere thought that he’s touching them again. He’s terrified to open his eyes, in case he actually sees that gorgeous smile, those thick dark curls, those big brown eyes staring back at him again. 

He has to open one eye to quickly grab the last photo, throwing it back into the box and shutting the lid. When it’s safely back on the shelf in his closet, he takes a moment to calm himself, wiping at his watery eyes and taking a few deep breaths. 

It’s been six whole years and he’s still so affected by it. He’s weak, he tells himself. So weak. Most people would have moved on by now, found someone else or at least be able to look at the photos without having to suppress a sob in minutes. But Michael hasn’t, he can’t, doesn’t know how, so he’s resigned himself to simply trying to erase Calum from his life instead of accepting it. 

Michael sits down at the table after his son and his chest hurts to see that his boy is still hanging his head in remorse. Ashton glances between the two of them, raising his eyebrows at Michael questioningly for an explanation. It’s not accusatory by any means, simply pure concern etched into Ashton’s features. Matthew’s feelings are just as important to Ashton as they are to Michael. 

“He was just ... snooping around in some old things,” Michael mumbles, turning away from Ashton and busying himself with the food in order to avoid his gaze.

He fails of course, because he can’t not meet Ashton’s eyes, can’t ignore his best friend. Ashton looks even more concerned at the mention of “some old things” and Michael’s throat drops into his stomach at that. He tries to plead with his eyes because he really doesn’t want to get into it right now, not in front of his son. Thankfully Ashton seems to understand and doesn’t press the issue any further. 

“Hey Matthew, guess what?” Ashton turns his attention to the little boy sitting across from him, a grin on his face. 

Matthew looks up with a hint of sadness still in his eyes, but upon seeing the smile on Ashton’s face, a small one starts to appear on his own. 

“I brought ice cream too.” 

Matthew’s face lights up and that’s the end of his sulking. He thanks Ashton and bounces in his seat, turning to Michael and asking if he can have some right then. Michael chuckles and ruffles his hair, telling him he has to eat dinner first before he has dessert. 

The rest of the meal is fine after that, with all three of them talking and laughing and absolutely stuffing their faces with food. Michael tells Ashton once again how great of a chef he is, but Ashton only smiles bashfully and mumbles about how he had help from Michael. 

They take the ice cream from the freezer and Matthew pleads to make sundaes, to which Michael rubs the back of his head, thoughts of all the extra sugar and potential cavities for his little boy making him hesitate.

“C’mon Ashton, make him say yes, please,” Matthew tugs on Ashton’s sleeve, drawing out the last word. 

Ashton shakes his head. “Sorry, bud. It’s not my decision,” he says and Matthew is about to start pouting until he sees the grin on Ashton’s face. 

“But … I personally wouldn’t mind making sundaes,” he turns to Michael with a childish grin to match Matthew’s and how can Michael say no after that?

He nods and throws a weak glare at Ashton, who simply returns it by sticking his tongue out playfully. 

Michael watches as Ashton helps Matthew pour chocolate syrup over his ice cream, the two of them laughing at some joke Ashton made, and Michael feels something warm stirring in his belly. He shakes his head a little and looks away until the feeling has passed and he actively doesn’t think about it any more after that. 

The night is peaceful as they eat their ice cream and Michael thinks about how it’s moments like these, where he’s just living simply, surrounded by the two most important people in the world to him, that the past isn’t so bad. It’s moments like these that make Michael think that maybe one day he’ll be alright, that there’s a chance for him to not hurt anymore. 

But that thought is quickly dashed when Matthew asks a simple question. 

“Hey Dad? Papa was in the army right?”

Michael’s heart stops momentarily and he can only vaguely make out the sounds of Ashton choking on his ice cream. His boy is staring at him with the most innocent expression on his face, patiently waiting for an answer. 

“Um, y-yes. He was. Why do you ask?” Michael finally answers, clearing his throat. 

Matthew starts to ramble happily, only stopping to breathe in more air so he can continue talking.

“Ms. Bridges was talking about Anzac Day in school today. She said that it’s a day to honour and remember all the people that fought in the wars, and she also said that there are three different ceremonies, and the first one starts really early in the morning because that’s when the soldiers start their daily routine.” It’s clear from his tone and expressions that he’s intrigued by the whole thing. 

Michael can feel his body heating up the more Matthew talks. His chest and throat are getting tighter with every word that pours out of the boy’s excited mouth. 

“And she also said that all soldiers are heroes!” Matthew bounces in his seat and Michael audibly gasps, has to physically turn away and shut his eyes tight. He’s right on the verge of yelling at Matthew to shut up when the little boy speaks again.

“Can we go this year? To the ceremonies? Please dad?” Matthew is looking at him with so much hope and excitement in his eyes, but Michael can’t even fathom setting foot anywhere near the place. 

Michael simply gapes at him and doesn’t answer, the thoughts and feelings spinning around furiously in his head rendering him speechless. 

Finally, he stammers out, “I … I don’t think that’s such a good idea, bud.” 

Matthew isn’t fazed in the slightest. Instead, he simply turns to Ashton.

“You were in the army too, right? You were friends with my papa! Would you take me?” 

That makes Michael snap. 

“Matthew! That’s enough!” he says, glaring at him as Ashton sputters a little. The older man’s eyes are darting back and forth between the two of them and the tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife. 

Matthew’s face twists into an expression of worry and sadness and Michael sighs. 

“Matthew,” he says, much more softly this time. “Don’t worry about what your teacher says. It’s getting late, you should get to bed.”

“Aw c’mon, I’m not even tired,” Matthew starts to protest but Michael gives him a firm look and stands up, nodding towards the stairs. 

*** 

Ashton is just finishing up clearing the table when Michael comes back downstairs a few minutes later. He turns around and the two lock eyes.

Michael can see so many things in Ashton’s eyes. Genuine concern for his wellbeing, sympathy for the hurt he’s still feeling and even a hint of reprimand. 

“Are you okay?” Ashton asks softly and Michael just lets out a sigh and slumps back against the doorframe. 

Ashton knows Michael is not okay. He figured it out the very first time he set foot in Michael’s house, from the lack of all pictures of Michael’s husband, of Matthew’s father, of his own best friend. 

Michael doesn’t answer. He won’t look at Ashton and Ashton’s brows furrow with concern as he steps towards Michael, until they’re standing right in front each other. 

“Michael, listen -”

“Ashton, don’t. Please.” 

The last word is barely a whisper and even though Ashton can’t see Michael’s eyes, he can tell the tears are threatening to spill. 

Michael lifts his head and his eyes are pleading with Ashton. He really doesn’t want to get into this right now. He’s heard Ashton’s spiel so many times before. He’s been on the receiving end of Ashton trying to get him to cope in a better way and he’s so tired of it. No matter how many times he shuts Ashton down, the older man’s persistence never wavers. Michael knows he’s just trying to help, knows that Ashton is doing it out of the pure desire to help him, but Michael doesn’t want to be helped. 

“No! Listen to me, Michael,” Ashton grips his shoulders, his voice turning cold but his eyes still remaining as soft as always. 

“I think you should take Matthew to the memorial. I think _you_ should go. I think you need to go.”

“No,” Michael says immediately. “I can’t.”

“Why?” Ashton counters. 

“You of all people should know why, Ashton,” Michael answers harshly. 

“I do know, Michael, of course I do. But how do you think I dealt with it? How do you think I’m still dealing with it? You can’t keep running from this, Michael.”

“Why not? It’s worked so far,” Michael says bitterly. He knows he’s being childish right now, but it’s his only way of defending himself. 

“Has it, Michael? Has it really? You can’t even hear his name without being on the verge of tears and you claim that ‘it’s worked’?” 

Michael shoves Ashton’s hands off of him then and starts to turn away angrily, but Ashton grips his wrist and pulls him back. 

“No! Don’t run away from me!” Ashton pulls him close, clasping his hands around Michael’s own and holding them against his chest. 

He sighs and suddenly his whole body deflates. Michael’s hard expression softens as he sees the sadness washing over Ashton. 

“I want to help you, Michael. I hate seeing you like this. You’ve always been there for me, even though I know you’re hurting too, and now it’s my turn to do the same. But I can’t do that unless you help yourself too,” Ashton sighs heavily once he’s finished talking and lets go of Michael’s hands. He hangs his head, suddenly exhausted, as if his speech has drained all energy from his body whatsoever. 

Michael gently tilts Ashton’s head up to look at him and speaks with a tenderness in his voice.

“You have helped me, Ash. More than you know. But this …” Michael has to pause to take a deep breath before he speaks again, looking away from Ashton.

“This is something I can’t do.”

“Will you at least consider going? If not for Matthew, than at least for me?”

Michael’s head shoots up at that and his eyes lock onto Ashton’s. There’s a desperate plea behind the older man’s eyes.

Michael’s eyes roam Ashton’s own frantically, the shock and slight upset on full display. He’s already had to refuse his little boy, and that alone had been a stab to his heart, and now on top of that, he has to refuse his best friend as well. It sends white hot guilt bubbling up in his chest. 

Ashton knows he’s got Michael cornered.

“Fine,” Michael says quietly and then Ashton’s strong arms are wrapping around him. 

***

The three weeks leading up to Anzac Day are difficult for Michael. There’s no other way to put it. 

Matthew’s been asking him more and more questions everyday. Questions about the military, about the memorials and of course, about Calum. He’s old enough to understand what happened, and why Calum is no longer around, but just because Michael doesn’t have to explicitly say it, it doesn’t make it any easier, not one bit.

But Michael is trying. He’s resolved himself to answer every one of Matthew’s questions, knowing he owes the boy that at least. Ashton has been there for him, just like he said he would. They’ve been seeing each other nearly every day since their argument. Neither of them acknowledge it, but it happens at Michael’s request. Ashton sort of instinctively knows that Michael will need him more than ever during the next few weeks, even though Michael would never say that. Michael never explicitly asks for help. 

Matthew seems ecstatic about the fact. A wide smiles paints itself across his face everytime he sees Ashton, and there’s no missing the excited bounce in his step when Ashton is with him. It’s especially hard to miss when the three of them are grocery shopping and Matthew is skipping down the aisles more wildly than ever. 

Ashton can’t escape Matthew’s insistent prying either, but he’s handling it better than Michael is. In fact, he often takes the brunt of the questions when he can tell that Michael doesn’t want to answer, or isn’t ready to. Michael is more thankful for him than he thinks he can ever express.

It’s that particular thought that’s occupying his brain right now as he shakes the sand from his shoes, tired legs sighing with relief when he sits down on the park bench. Ashton is beside him, grinning slightly as he watches Matthew run around the park with his friends, jumping off the brightly coloured plastic playsets and kicking sand into the air as he goes. Ashton looks happy, Michael notes. 

He had looked happy ever since Michael had asked if he wanted to come with him to pick Matthew up from school earlier that day. He was already planning to come over later for their Friday night dinner tradition, but he’s more than happy to spend some extra time with Michael and his son. The invitation was convenient.

It’s nice, Michael thinks, peaceful here, sitting with Ashton at the tiny park, a soft breeze blowing through and the sun’s warmth surrounding them. He feels calm. There aren’t any thoughts swirling frantically around in his head and he doesn’t feel as tired as he always does. He thinks about how he always feels like this whenever Ashton is around, how he only ever seems to feel like this when Ashton is around. 

“Dad! Ashton!” Matthew calls out to them, and they both look over to see the little boy swinging wildly on the rickety swing set a few feet away.

“Watch this!”

Michael chuckles as Matthew swings higher and higher into the air, his legs pumping back and forth in the motion that Michael showed him when he was smaller. Matthew never gets tired of showing off his swinging skills to Michael. Nervousness still causes his stomach to do little flips every time Matthew gets a little too high, but the absolute shrieks of laughter coming from his boy are enough to put his mind at ease. Matthew’s not a helpless little child anymore. He doesn’t need Michael to constantly be worrying about him. 

Ashton calls out praise to Matthew and sends him a big thumbs up before turning to Michael.

“Quite the little rocket you got there. Look at him go,” he chuckles and Michael nods in agreement, smiling fondly at his son.

“Dad, watch!”

His smiles fades however, as Matthews jump off of the little plastic seat and into the air, hanging there for a second before he comes crashing down into the sand. His knee hits the concrete edge of the play area and a horrible smacking sound echoes through the playground. Michael’s whole body freezes for a moment before a sick feeling washes over him. He’s up and running towards Matthew before his brain even has time to register what just happened. 

“Matthew!” Michael cries frantically as he sinks down next to his boy. Ashton is a mere second behind him.

Tears are streaming down Matthew’s face as he lets out shuddering sobs, clutching his knee and rocking back and forth slightly. 

“Oh, buddy,” Michael’s voice is soothing as he wraps his arms around his son and pulls him close, prying the little boy’s hands away from his knee to assess the damage. 

There’s a huge scrape across the boy’s skin, blood shining weakly in the sunlight, and a huge bruise is already forming, but nothing seems to be broken, so Michael sighs just a tiny bit in relief. 

“Ashton, in my bag-” Michael starts but Ashton is already jogging back to the bench to root around in it for the band-aids he knows Michael keeps with him. 

When he returns, he hands the band-aids to Michael and bends down beside Matthew, murmuring calming phrases and smoothing down his hair gently as Michael patches up his knee. 

“There buddy, you’re okay,” Michael finishes up and presses a kiss to Matthew’s head as the little boy’s sobs die down into occasional sniffles. 

He makes grabby hands at Michael and Michael lifts him off the ground, sweeping him up into a tight embrace. Matthew curls into him and lays his head on his shoulder as Michael places his hand gently on top of his head. Ashton comes to stand next to Michael and rub Matthew’s back slowly as he hiccups and buries his face into Michael’s neck. 

A few of the other parents are staring at them curiously, and one particular young woman has concern etched all over her face. 

“I think that’s enough of the park for today,” Michael chuckles and Ashton lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

“I’ll go get our bags,” Ashton says before he walks away in the direction of the park bench. 

“Um, Sir?” a small voice sounds and when Michael turns around, the woman who’d been staring earlier is standing next to him. 

“Sorry, I just wanted to know if your son was alright. I-I saw him fall and I felt so bad,” she speaks and there’s a worried expression on her face. 

She gazes tenderly at Matthew, still clutching his father’s shoulders tightly.

Michael gives her a kind smile. “Oh yeah, he’s fine. Don’t worry. Just got a bit too excited on the swingset is all. Thank you for your concern though.”

The woman’s face breaks out into a wide grin and she visibly relaxes. 

“You have a lovely little family here. You and your husband seem very happy together,” the woman gushes at Michael.

“My … my husband?” Michael’s face twists into a puzzled expression before he looks at Ashton and back at the woman, suddenly understanding.

“Oh no, we’re not …” Michael starts, but the woman seems so ecstatic with the two of them that he doesn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise, so he just politely smiles and nods. 

She gives him another fond smile before they exchange goodbyes and she walks away, just as Ashton comes back. 

“What was that all about?” he asks curiously.

Michael just waves him off, telling him the woman was only asking about Matthew. 

“Alright well, let’s go home then, yeah? We’ve got a feast to prepare!” Ashton gives him a goofy smile. 

Michael is lost in thought the whole way home, and all through the dinner preparations. 

That woman thought him and Ashton were together, thought they were married. She thought Matthew was _their_ son. 

Is that really what the three of them look like to strangers? Is that what he and Ashton look like?

Michael can’t deny that the thought sits rather comfortably with him. He thinks about the validity of the woman’s assumptions. Michael and Ashton do act rather like a couple, if he’s being honest. They see each other nearly everyday and when they don’t, they always call or text. They take care of each other when the other is sick, alternate between picking Matthew up from school and even finish each other’s grocery shopping sometimes. Ashton knows where everything is located in Michael’s house and vice versa, and they each know each other’s preferences like the backs of their hands. 

Michael knows that Ashton likes two sugars in his coffee, always wrinkles his nose at Michael when he takes it black. Ashton knows that it’s physically impossible for Michael to sleep if the sheets have come off the corners of the bed. Michael could go on and on, listing trivial things that on the outside, don’t seem to matter all that much, but which Michael is only just realizing now, actually mean a lot to him. 

Ashton is his best friend. He fits so well into Michael’s life, into every aspect of it. Things have always been easy with Ashton. Their friendship began when neither of them were in a good place, but that was how they bonded so quickly and so strongly. It was so natural for Michael to pour his feelings out to Ashton because he truly did understand. When Ashton would catch Michael with tears in his eyes as they sat at a random coffee shop, he wouldn’t look at him with pity, like all the others. He would look back at him with his own sadness and an understanding that went deeper than just a lost loved one. Ashton understood the kind of person that Calum was, and that was why Michael felt such a compelling pull towards him, even on that first day, in the tiny garden outside the funeral home. 

Michael rarely admits it, even to himself, but he thinks that if he didn’t have Ashton that first year, he wouldn’t have kept going. He tries to push that thought away whenever it rears itself in the back of his mind, because it scares him. It scares him how strongly he feels for the older man, how deeply intertwined their two lives are. 

The thought is not entirely true in every sense. If Michael hadn’t had Matthew during those first few months, if he hadn’t had to provide for him more than ever before, he really doesn’t know what would’ve happened. His son is absolutely everything to him and that fact makes him chuckle then, because Ashton is tied up with Matthew just as much as he is with Michael. 

Matthew adores Ashton. The wide smile that always plasters itself on Matthew’s face whenever Ashton is around never fails to warm Michael’s whole body in a pleasant way. 

Ashton is always bringing toys and treats for Matthew, is always happy to spend time with him. He listens to Matthew’s problems and gives him advice on the rare occasion that Matthew asks for it and he’s always encouraging Matthew to do his best. 

It sounds an awful lot like what a father is supposed to do, Michael thinks. 

The three of them sound an awful lot like a family. 

***

“What time do we have to leave tomorrow?” Ashton’s voice crackles through the phone into Michael’s ear. 

“The Dawn Service officially starts at 5:30 am but they start reading the letters at 4:30 and I think Matthew really wants to be there for that, so you can come over around four and then we’ll leave. The other ones start at 10:15 and then 4:55, so we’ll have lots of time in between,” Michael explains. Ashton hums his agreement before they hang up and Michael turns to his son. 

Matthew’s sitting cross legged on the living room floor, a giant half-finished lego model of the Millennium Falcon laid out in front of him. Tiny plastic pieces are scattered absolutely everywhere and Michael internally groans at the mess Matthew’s created. Mostly though, he’s just worried that Matthew is going to step on one of them and hurt himself (he’s made that mistake enough times himself to know it hurts like a bitch). 

“Matthew, come on, it’s time for bed.” 

Matthew whines immediately, looking up at Michael with sad eyes and an adorable pout on his face, one that Michael is not going to fall for this time. 

“But it’s not even time yet!” he counters, and he’s right. The clock on the wall reads 7:48 pm, much earlier than Matthew’s usual 9:00 pm bedtime. 

“I know bud, but we have to wake up super early tomorrow for the first ceremony, so you have to go bed earlier than normal,” Michael explains as he starts picking up all the little lego pieces and putting them away. 

Matthew doesn’t protest much as he helps his father clean up all the little pieces from the floor and then trudges up the stairs. He gets dressed for bed and brushes his teeth in relative silence, and Michael feels a little uneasy. Matthew seems to be in deep thought, all the way up until Michael is tucking him into bed. 

“Dad?” his voice comes just as Michael is pulling the blankets up to his chin, a suddenly serious tone that catches Michael off guard. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

His son is looking directly at him, patiently waiting for an answer, and Michael knows he isn’t just asking if he’s double checked the time and place or finalized their plans with Ashton.

Michael lets out a sigh. “Yes,” he answers truthfully.

Matthew seems satisfied with the answer, but there’s an air of lacking in the room, like Matthew wants to say something else. Michael stares curiously at his son, before asking if he’s alright.

“Dad?” Matthew says again, a little timidly. Michael nods encouragingly.

“Are you and Ashton together?”

That completely throws Michael off. The question reverberates through his mind, taking a few seconds to fully sink in. His brain is racing a mile a minute all of a sudden, wondering why on earth Matthew would ask something like that. Michael’s own reaction startles him a little bit. He doesn’t really know why his breathing has picked up all of a sudden or why his hands suddenly feel clammy. 

“What? I don’t ... do you mean … as in … are we a couple?” Michael stammers out. Matthew nods, his eyes never leaving his father’s.

“Um, no,” Michael gives a little nervous chuckle, once he’s calmed down enough to answer. 

“Why not?” Matthew asks with a tiny pout on his face. He’s clearly confused by the answer.

If Michael had been flustered before, it’s nothing compared to now. Matthew’s questions are so completely unexpected to him, so serious and real that Michael is at a complete loss for words. He has absolutely nothing to say, and yet, too much with no idea how to say it. He shifts around on the bed, just for something to do, and lets out a sigh before he speaks slowly. 

“I don’t know. It’s … complicated. Why do you ask?” he utters the last question quickly, wanting the attention shifted away from him. What he really wants, though, is for the subject to be dropped completely. He feels like he’s wanted that a lot recently. 

“Because you look like you’re together,” Matthew says simply.

Michael is stunned at that.

“Wha-What do you mean we look like we’re together?” he asks rather defensively. If he’s being honest, he think he sounds a little hysterical right now. Then again, none of this really feels real to him right now. 

Matthew sits up in his bed and crosses his legs. He looks at Michael before he shrugs and says, “You guys are always with each other, and you go out and do stuff together all the time.”

Michael scoffs a little, but he has to admit, Matthew makes some great points.

“But … that’s what friends do. Ashton and I are friends,” Michael tries, but Matthew shakes his head.

“You guys look at each other in a special way too,” Matthew shifts around a little more, sitting up straighter. “My teacher said that people who are together look at each other in a special way. She said that’s what people do when they’re in love.” There’s a tiny smile playing at the corners of his lips now, but he still seems a little timid.

Michael looks away for a moment. He feels a bit lightheaded, but he isn’t necessarily shying away from Matthew’s words. Michael sees it when Matthew gets a little braver.

“So if you guys look at each other like that, how come you aren’t together?” he continues on in an innocent tone, concluding his point like it’s a simple math problem and he’s just going through all the steps.

“It’s complicated,” Michael says again after a long period of silence. He only says it because he has absolutely no idea what to say. 

He hates giving these vague answers to his son, knowing he deserves better, but how is he supposed to explain the real reason he and Ashton aren’t together? The reason they can’t be together? Michael’s tried to deny it, to keep it hidden inside him, but he knows it deep in his heart and he has a feeling this conversation is about to pull it out of him.

And then, just like Michael predicted, and as if Matthew has read his mind, he asks, “Is it because you’re still sad about Papa?”

Michael decides then and there that he’s going to give Matthew straight answers, no matter how hard it is for him. 

“Yes,” he breathes out shakily.

“Papa was a great man, wasn’t he?” 

Michael stares down at the sheets of Matthew’s bed, twirls them in his fingers so he doesn’t have to look at Matthew. He doesn’t want his son to see that the sting of tears is already starting behind his eyelids.

“Yes.”

“And you loved him very much, didn’t you?”

Michael’s chest feels tight. He tries to speak, to give Matthew an answer, but his voice won’t come, so he just nods solemnly until he can speak. He’s barely able to manage anything more than a whisper, but he answers definitely. 

“Yes.”

The room is silent for a little while, but Michael can hear Matthew’s quiet rustling. He can practically hear the gears turning in his head too. 

“But … Ashton is a great man too, right?”

Michael snaps his head up then, the subtle shock written across his face. He looks into his son’s eyes and finds the wisdom of an eighty year old, not an eight year old, staring back at him. He finds himself nodding.

“Yes. Yes he is.”

“And you love him too, don’t you?”

Matthew’s tiny eight year old frame seems so intimidating to Michael in that moment, but at the same time, his son is looking at him with such _hope_ in his eyes, and a hint of knowing that makes Michael feel compelled to answer truthfully. Matthew is letting him be vulnerable in this moment and Michael feels safe.

“Yes,” he says, because it _is_ true. It’s true in every sense of the word. Michael loves Ashton just like he loved Calum, and it absolutely terrifies him. That’s why they can’t be together. 

Matthew smiles wide at him. “And he loves you too.”

Michael is snapped out of his thoughts at that. “What? Wait, how do you know that?” he asks quickly, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

“I asked him the same question and he told me,” Matthew says nonchalantly, shrugging as if this doesn’t change everything for Michael.

Michael’s body deflates a little, and only then does he realize how much tension he’d been holding in. He tries to wrap his mind around what he’s just been told, wants to ask Matthew a million questions, but the little boy continues on. 

“So if you both love each other, that’s not complicated,” he concludes, stating the last part like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He seems pretty proud of himself.

Michael thinks everything over for a minute or so, looking between his hands and the eyes of his little boy.

“Matthew? If …” he starts cautiously, voice trembling a little, “If Ashton and I … were together … would you be okay with it?” 

Matthew practically beams as he nods his head enthusiastically. “Yeah, I like Ashton.”

Michael leans closer to him and a little grin spreads across his face. “Yeah, I like him too,” he chuckles quietly.

Matthew laughs too and moves forward suddenly to wrap his arms around Michael’s neck. The movement pushes Michael back and he nearly falls over, chuckling at how big his son is getting. 

He holds Matthew close, the two of them clinging to each other happily, and Michael feels calm. His nerves were on fire just a few minutes ago, but now his mind has been cleared. Relief washes over him and spreads through his body, along with a kind of happiness he hasn’t felt in years. He feels at peace, for however brief a moment.

He thinks that now, with his son’s approval, maybe, just maybe, he and Ashton _can_ be together.

***

Michael’s alarm clock rings at far too early an hour, but this time he doesn’t groan when he shuts it off. There’s a subtle thrum of something coursing through his body and although he can’t quite place it, he doesn’t think it’s entirely negative. 

His alarm clock reads 3:01 am and it’s weird being up this early, but Michael kind of enjoys it. He stands beside his window and stares out at the silent, still street before him, feeling like this moment is frozen in time. 

Ashton ends up coming over earlier than planned, confessing with a somewhat sheepish smile to Michael that he couldn’t really sleep. Michael isn’t annoyed in the slightest, just adds more water to the kettle so there’s enough to make coffee for the both of them. Ashton knows he’s always welcome at Michael’s. 

Michael relishes in the comfortable silence they share as they lean against the kitchen counters, sipping their coffee slowly as the last remnants of sleep pass through their bodies. Ashton glances at Michael with a gentle look, silently asking him how he’s feeling, if he’s sure he wants to do this, and Michael nods at him. 

The three of them are stepping out the door a little bit later, Michael reminding Matthew to bring a sweater in case it gets cold, which it most likely will, considering how early in the morning it is. 

It’s silent in the car as they drive along the empty roads, the light from the streetlamps illuminating their faces every now and then. Michael chuckles fondly when he glances back at Matthew from the front seat, seeing that the little boy is fast asleep once again. 

When they get to the relatively empty ceremony grounds, Matthew is suddenly wide awake. He’s bouncing up and down on the spot as he waits for Michael and Ashton to grab their things and lock the car doors. 

They find seats on the bleachers that have been set up and Matthew asks if he can go play with the group of kids at the bottom of them. Michael’s not really keen on the idea of his son being away from him, especially at this hour of day, but there are huge floodlights illuminating the grounds, so he agrees. Ashton teases Michael about how overprotective he is as they watch Matthew run around playing tag on the damp grass.

Michael curls into himself and rubs his hands over his arms to try and stave off the slight chill that’s creeping into him. He and Ashton sit in comfortable silence again and Michael absentmindedly takes in the scene around him. He watches more and more people fill up the empty space around them, watches the australian flag waving smoothly in the wind at half mast, listens to the soft sounds of the birds chirping as time goes on.

At 4:30 am they start reading the excerpts from the soldiers’ diaries and Michael takes a deep breath. Ashton notices, of course, and shuffles closer to him. With Ashton’s body pressed all up against his side, Michael instantly feels better. Matthew leans against him too, grabbing his hand to drag his arm around his tiny shoulders. 

The majority of the excerpts are solemn, but a few of them make the crowd chuckle. There are stories of friendship and stories about courage. There are ones that include great danger, but also great triumph, and Michael feels a peculiar warmth spread through him. It makes him nostalgic, reminds him of all the stories Calum used to tell him every time he came home. 

Michael looks over at Ashton then, and sees the older man staring intently at the speaker, lost deep in thought with his fingers laced together and his lips resting against them. He thinks Ashton must feel pretty nostalgic right about now too.

The last excerpt finally cracks Michael’s hard shell, and he lets a tear slip out. His small sniffle startles Ashton out of his thoughts and makes him look over at Michael quickly, the faintest expression of hurt washing over his face. He brushes their hands together then, linking their pinkies together and smiling softly at Michael as he stares directly into his eyes. Michael smiles back at him, genuine and grateful, and they don’t say a word, but Michael knows the small gesture is Ashton's way of saying it’s okay, that he’s here with Michael in this moment.

The lights go out as they stare at each other, signalling the start of the official ceremony, and silence falls over the crowd. All eyes are trained on the speaker as the service starts, but Ashton’s eyes linger on Michael’s for a few more moments. 

The murky black colour of the sky changes to orange, pink, purple, until it finally settles on a soft blue, and they don’t move their hands even once. 

***

The rest of the day follows in pretty much the same manner. They attend the next ceremony and when it’s finished, they have hotdogs from the street venders for lunch. Matthew wrinkles his nose at all of the extra sauces and toppings Ashton adds to his hotdog (he hasn’t fully moved past wanting only ketchup on his food quite yet). Ashton just ruffles his hair and promises him that when he’s older, he’ll want all of it too, to which Matthew defiantly shakes his head.

The last ceremony ends relatively early in the evening, but by the time the three of them step back into Michael’s house, they’re all exhausted. Michael scoops Matthew up into his arms and takes him up to bed after the little boy sluggishly toes his shoes off. He asks him if had fun today as he’s tucking him into bed and despite the yawn that comes from his mouth, he nods ardently. 

Back downstairs, Ashton lingers by the front door, like he’s not sure if he should leave. 

“Stay awhile,” Michael chuckles at him, but Ashton knows there’s a silent plea in the phrase. He can see it in Michael’s eyes. Ashton shrugs off his coat and follows the younger man into the kitchen.

Michael leans against the kitchen counters, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares down at the floor. Ashton just watches him, with a feeling of slight worry. Michael grips the counter behind him and lets his head fall back gently, eyes closed as he takes a deep breath in. He lets it out slowly, like it’s the first time he’s breathed all day. Ashton figures in some way, it is. He know’s Michael is trying to process everything that happened today. 

“Are you alright, Mikey?” Ashton asks softly, his eyes never leaving Michael. 

After a few minutes of silence, Michael nods. 

“I need a drink.” He turns around and starts to pull a bottle of wine and two glasses from the cupboards. 

He hands one of the glasses to Ashton once it’s full and then takes a big swig of his own. They move to the living room, Michael clutching the bottle in one hand to bring it with them. He sets it down and then collapses on the couch, like his legs can’t hold him anymore. Ashton can see it when the fatigue washes over him. 

They don’t say anything to each other for a few minutes. Michael seems lost in thought again, his stare fixed randomly on the leg of the coffee table, his body unmoving. He reaches for his glass and takes another big swig of wine, leaning forward and placing his head in his hands suddenly.

Ashton shifts closer to him immediately, instinctively placing his arms around Michael. One hand rests on Michael’s shoulder while the other rubs soothing circles over his back.

“Mikey,” Ashton says again, so soft it wouldn’t have been heard if not for the complete silence in the room. He doesn’t prompt Michael at all, just lets him be and keeps his hands on him as a gesture of comfort.

Michael can't even begin to tell Ashton how much he appreciates it. There’s a sadness spreading through him and it makes him unable to speak, makes him unable to lift his head and look at Ashton. All he can do is sit there and relish in the warmth of Ashton’s hands on him. 

The whole day was beautiful, he thinks. It really was. While it did bring back a few painful memories, it was actually comforting to listen to the speeches, to watch them lay the wreaths and to see all the men and women in uniform again, with their medals glistening in the sun. He’d managed to keep it together for the most part, only tearing up a few times throughout the day, but now that it’s over, now that he’s home and it’s just him and Ashton, it’s all finally catching up to him.

He digs the palms of his hands into his eyes, in a vain attempt to gain back the control he’s quickly losing. He sniffles, drawing in a shaky breath before he turns to Ashton.

“I miss him, Ash. I miss him so much.”

It hits him full force then, makes his chest burn and his throat tight, forces the tears to well up in his eyes before he can even hope to stop them.

Ashton just pulls him into his chest, and lets the sobs wrack Michael’s body, intense and unhindered. 

“I know, Mikey, I know,” he says quietly. His own voice wavers when he speaks again. 

“I do too.”

Michael lets himself be held, lets the weight of his body slump against Ashton. He lets Ashton’s arms encase him, strong and warm. He lets Ashton run his fingers through his hair gently, listening to the steady beating of his heart where he’s pressed against his chest. It calms him, makes him feel protected. 

Eventually Ashton pulls away and cups Michael’s face in his hands to make sure he’s looking at him.

“I’m so proud of you, Michael,” he says earnestly, a tender smile on his face and it causes more tears to spill down the younger man’s cheeks. Ashton wipes them away gently with his thumbs. 

“Thank you, Ash. For everything.”

Ashton looks down then, bashful, but then he chuckles a little sadly. 

“What?” Michael questions. 

“Nothing ... it’s just … Calum always used to tell me th-”

“That you and I would be good friends? I know,” Michael says warmly. “He used to tell me the same thing.”

Ashton pulls Michael into his arms again, burying his face into the crook of his neck and holding him close. Michael squeezes right back, breathing in Ashton’s scent from the soft fabric of his shirt against Michael’s nose. 

When they break apart, Ashton reaches for the two wine glasses on the coffee table and hands Michael his. He holds his own up in a toast. 

“To Calum. And to you.”

Michael holds his glass to Ashton’s. 

“And to you, Ashton,” he adds before they both drink, small smiles breaking out on their faces afterwards. 

Michael sniffles again and wipes at his face with his sleeve. He shuffles closer to Ashton on the couch and nestles into him, needing to feel the comfort again. Ashton puts his arm around Michael, resting his chin atop the younger man’s head.

They don’t move for a while, and the comfortable silence between them returns. On the outside, it looks quiet and uneventful, but in reality, Michael is tuned into Ashton like never before. His own body is warm from where’s it’s been resting against Ashton’s, and he’s acutely aware of the older man’s breathing. The subtle rise and fall of his chest moves Michael’s body along with it, and the steady rhythm almost lulls him to sleep. 

“Calum used to tell me a lot about you, actually,” Michael murmurs after some time. 

“Like what?” Ashton asks softly, a fondness to his voice.

Michael starts to tell Ashton about Calum’s stories, but the conversation soon changes from Calum’s stories to Calum himself. 

And then it all comes pouring out. Michael talksabout all of Calum's little quirks and tells Ashton which ones he loved and which ones he didn't. He describes the feeling he would get whenever Calum came home and he tells him what it felt like to make only one cup of coffee in the morning when he was away. 

He tells Ashton about their wedding, and what it was like to hold Matthew for the first time. Michael will never forget the first time Calumwrapped his arms around the both of them, around their family. 

It all flows out of Michael so easily as he sits there with Ashton, or maybe it’s _because_ he’s with Ashton. The alcohol sitting warm in his belly helps too, though. 

Ashton reciprocates, tells him about meeting Calum during training and how scared he was on that day and how the only person who was able to calm him down was Calum. He tells him about how he was always the shyer one of the two, how he couldn’t handle the violence and the death as well as Calum could, how he was always weaker than him. 

Ashton recalls that during whatever down time they had in the military, that’s when he would finally break down and Calum would be there to comfort and reassure him, grounding him and lifting him back to his feet for another day. 

Ashton confesses that Calum’s death was what ultimately made him choose a simpler life, how he couldn't handle anymore loss after that and in doing so, he found Michael.

They talk about each other then, and Ashton tells Michael that he’s so thankful for him, that he doesn’t know he got so lucky, because just like how Calum used to be his rock, Michael has taken his place now. 

Michael tells Ashton that he’s the reason he keeps going even when it feels like he’s drowning, tells him that when he looks at Ashton and Matthew together, it gives him hope for the future. 

He admits that he’s been in denial about Calum and that he hasn’t coped in the best way. His whole body feels sore with how hard he’s shaking when he says it, but it feels _good_. It’s something he’s been carrying the weight of for six years. 

Ashton just holds him some more as he cries again, cries with him this time because both of their hearts are open and bleeding. 

The lamp in the living room casts a soft glow around the room, and from where Michael is sitting, Ashton is bathed in the light of it. The edges of his figure are bright and Michael feels so safe and warm in this moment that he can’t help it when he blurts out the other thing that’s been eating away at him. 

“Matthew wants us to be together.” 

In his tipsy state, the words feel nice rolling off his tongue. Ashton’s eyes flash up to meet his, but he doesn’t look alarmed or confused at all. On the contrary, he seems calm, thoughtful about the statement. 

“He came and talked to me last night,” Michael adds, looking down at his lap, suddenly shy.

“What exactly did he say?” Ashton asks. 

Michael shifts around nervously. He recounts the conversation he had with his son less than twenty four hours ago, blushing slightly and not meeting Ashton’s eyes for most of it. He leaves out the part where he told Matthew he loved Ashton, and the part where he asked Matthew how he felt about the two of them, unsure how to approach the subjects for now.

When he’s done, Ashton doesn’t say anything. Michael glances at him, but Ashton is lost in thought. Uneasiness spreads through Michael then, and he voices the thoughts in head a little timidly.

“Do you think he’s just saying that because he never knew Calum? I mean, he’s only ever known you and me, so it does make sense for him to say something like that.” 

Ashton takes a moment before he speaks.

“No. I don’t think that’s his only reason. He knows what happened to Calum, and even though he may not understand everything, I think he understands that you’re unhappy, Michael,” Ashton looks at him then, shifts in his seat before he looks away again. 

“He came and talked to me the other day too.” 

Michael recalls Matthew mentioning his talk with Ashton, and his stomach does a little flip when he remembers what Ashton had told him. 

“What did he say?”

Ashton chuckles slightly. “He asked me practically all the same questions. But ... he also said that he notices the way I act around you. He said that we make each other happy, and that makes him happy,” 

Ashton turns to Michael, staring directly at him and his tone is a bit more serious. “I think his feelings are pretty genuine. He’s sick of seeing his father hurt like this.”

Michael’s lips part in a small gasp, and he puts his head down, nodding a little. Ashton’s words leave a dull sting in his heart, but they really aren’t much of a surprise.

It’s silent for a fraction of a second before Michael turns his body to face Ashton, both of them looking at each other straight on now. 

“So … do you agree with him then? Do you think we should be together?” he asks quietly, and there’s a slight air of hope in his tone. 

“Well, I mean … I don’t … I’m not-” Ashton’s flustered at the question, lets out a deep sigh before he continues.

“Look, I know what I feel for you, Mikey, and I know what I feel for Matthew. But I also know what you felt for Calum, hell, what you still feel for him. You know I would _never_ try to come in between that, and I would never pressure you into anything you didn’t want,” Ashton looks away from Michael, swallows and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. He breathes in deep before he looks back at Michael, voice timid and unsure when he speaks again. 

“But Matthew’s right. I do feel something for you, and it goes deeper than just our friendship. But I would never let my own feelings get in the way of what we have, because regardless of what I feel, you’re still my best friend, Mikey, and I never want that to change.”

Michael doesn’t say anything. There’s a warmth spreading rapidly through his whole body, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol he’s consumed in the last two hours. It makes his brain fuzzy and his fingers numb, and he’s fighting hard to process what Ashton has just told him.

“God, I’m sorry, Mike. I know it’s fucked up because Calum was my best friend and he was your husband and you loved him so much and that’s why I was so scared to say anything, but I … I’ve felt this way for a long time and I jus-”

“No. Don’t be sorry, Ash, it’s okay,” Michael speaks for the first time since Ashton’s confession and there’s a huge smile spreading across his face. 

He takes Ashton’s hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of them to calm the older man. 

“I feel it too. I want it too. I think I’ve known it for a while, but I was too scared to accept it,” Michael admits, casting his eyes away for a moment before they come to rest on Ashton’s again.

Ashton’s eyes light up and he grips Michael’s hands harder, like he’s fighting to keep his hold on reality and Michael’s the only thing grounding him. 

“Are … Are you serious?” Ashton asks incredulously. His lips are stretching into a smile that’s taking up his whole face. 

It’s contagious, because now Michael’s biting his lip, trying not to grin like an idiot as he nods at Ashton. The movement is small, and still a tad bit nervous, but Michael’s eyes tell Ashton that he’s never been more sure in his life. 

Michael’s bottom lip falls from between his teeth as he giggles, smiling wide now. Ashton laughs too then, partly out of disbelief that this is really happening, that something this amazing is really happening to him. Their laughter grows as they stare at each other, and soon both of them nearly have tears in their eyes. Ashton pulls Michael in for a tight hug and Michael eagerly reciprocates it, burying his face into Ashton’s neck while their bodies shake.

When their laughter finally dies down and they’ve stopped erupting into more happy giggles at the sight of one another, Michael sighs and he’s suddenly all too aware of Ashton’s presence. 

Neither of them moved very far when they pulled away from their embrace, but now it seems like they’re impossibly close to one another. Michael’s been this close to Ashton before, but he’s never quite felt the same nervous tingles in his stomach that he does now. 

Ashton’s eyes flicker down to Michael’s lips for a second and they’re hooded when they meet his again. He’s subconsciously moved even closer. 

They’re so close together now that Michael feels Ashton’s breath on his skin when he speaks.

“Can … Can I kiss you?” he asks in a barely there whisper. 

Michael’s already tilting his head instinctively, responds with a breathless “yeah,” and a tiny nod, and then their lips touch and it’s easily the best thing either of them have felt in years.

The faint taste of wine still clings to Ashton’s soft lips, but Michael knows that’s not why his head is spinning. He brings his hands up to tenderly cup Ashton’s face, and Ashton’s hands grip Michael's waist, squeezing gently. The kiss is sweet and delicate, lasts only a few seconds before they both pull away slowly. 

Michael searches Ashton’s face frantically, eyes darting everywhere, but all he sees is genuine joy in the older man’s features. It makes Michael smile and he rubs his thumbs smoothly over the stubble on Ashton’s face. The slight scratch of it momentarily distracts him before Ashton leans forward and connects their lips again, this time slightly more forceful. 

He can feel Ashton’s tongue pushing against his bottom lip, and when he parts his lips for him, Ashton eagerly licks into his mouth. It quickly turns heated and Michael pushes back against Ashton, eager to reciprocate. Their mouths move together in effortless harmony and Michael feels like he’s floating. 

Ashton’s hands pull at his hips and Michael moves to straddle him. The movement forces them to break their kiss briefly and when Michael is situated, both of them hastily resume. Michael wraps his arms around Ashton’s neck, fingers playing with the small curls at the nape of it as Ashton’s hands roam his back. It’s comforting and Michael is overwhelmed by the realization that _everything_ about this feels comforting. Kissing Ashton feels _right_ **.**

But the revelation scares Michael, and he pulls away abruptly. Ashton’s brows furrow in confusion as Michael panics a little. 

“Ashton, I-” Michael starts, but he doesn’t know how to continue. He doesn’t know how to tell Ashton that he’s honestly terrified, has absolutely no idea how to go about this whole thing, but Ashton already understands. 

“It’s okay, Mikey. I don’t know either,” he says breathlessly, chuckling a little, and Michael’s slightly in awe of how in tune they are. He didn’t even say anything.

“We’ll take it slow, yeah?” Ashton says gently, and Michael nods gratefully. 

Michael leans forward and connects their lips again, because now he can do that, and that fact makes him feel like there are stars exploding inside him. 

Ashton giggles afterwards and chases Michael’s lips for another kiss, light and playful. 

They spend the rest of the night finishing off the bottle of wine and sharing small kisses, gazing at each other in a new light. Ashton eventually heads home, assuring Michael that he can walk the short distance to his house. Michael pulls him in for one last kiss before he goes. 

And when Ashton comes over again the next day, he finds a wealth of new picture frames on display, all of them showing Calum’s bright smile. 

 

_-6 years later-_

 

“Dad!” 

Michael hears the word, drawn out and whiny, before he’s even fully awake, and he groans. The bed sheets are soft against his bare skin and there’s a strong arm wrapped around his middle. He really doesn’t want to move.

Matthew calls out again and Ashton groans this time, pressing his forehead to back of Michael’s neck and letting out a deep sigh. It makes Michael’s skin tingle a little bit.

He shifts around and Ashton groans again when the movement subsequently shakes the bed, jostling the older man. 

Ashton’s eyes are open when Michael turns to face him, though he’s fighting hard to keep them from drooping shut again. 

“Three, two,” Michael counts down, and grins smugly at Ashton when Matthew bursts through their bedroom door at ‘one’. Ashton pokes him for it, though the gesture is more of a simple brush of his fingers against Michael’s stomach, where his limbs are still heavy with sleep. Regardless, Michael recoils slightly and giggles.

“Dad!” Matthew says sharply.

“Yeah?” both Michael and Ashton answer instinctively, and then giggle at each other. Matthew is not amused, probably because this happens every time. Plus, he’s a teenage boy, and he’s no longer amused by his parents. 

“C’mon, get up! I can’t be late on my first day!” he whines, huffing before he leaves the room in a rush.

The calm silence of the early morning returns and neither of them move for a few seconds. Their figures are cast in pale golden light as they simply stare at each other, breathing quietly. Ashton’s face is half smushed into the pillow and it makes Michael smile fondly.

“What are you smilin’ at?” Ashton asks playfully, gently, and it only makes Michael smile wider. 

He doesn’t answer right away, just stares at Ashton a little more and gently pushes a piece of his greying hair out of his face. The gold band on Michael’s left ring finger glints delicately in the sunlight, an identical one sitting on Ashton’s hand, pressing against the skin of his back.

“I love you,” he says softly. 

Michael is still in awe of how easily those words roll off his tongue, even six years later. 

He remembers how scared he had been to say it to Ashton for the first time. They had previously been reserved for only one person, and Michael thought that he would only ever say them to that one person.

Calum had been the only person Michael thought he would ever love, but he was wrong. He loves Ashton, and he isn’t afraid of it anymore. 

Ashton blushes a little and smiles wide, still so ecstatic to hear Michael say it each time. He pulls Michael closer, holds him tightly and buries his face into the younger man’s neck. His lips press softly against Michael’s collarbone and he instinctively leaves a few tender kisses there. 

Ashton whispers the words back to him and Michael smiles because it’s exactly like last night. He’s kissing over the bruises on his neck now, the ones left by Ashton himself while their bodies had moved together underneath the sheets. The soft, slow touches, hushed moans and warms breaths against tingling skin come flooding back into his mind at the feel of Ashton’s lips and he sighs with content. He remembers the way Ashton had held him, the way he always holds him, but his favourite part of it all, by far, was how he had whispered to Michael that he’s so lucky he has his love. Michael had whispered it right back. 

Matthew’s voice comes from down the hall again, and he seems really irritated now. 

Michael twists in Ashton’s grip. Ashton makes a little noise of protest at Michael moving away from him, but Michael just chuckles fondly at him. 

He cranes his neck to check the time on the alarm clock. It’s the same one he’s had for years and years, except now it sits next to a little glass box, where Michael keeps the locket he gave to his first love so long ago, instead of hidden away in a cardboard box. It still holds the same picture of Calum, Michael and Matthew as it did twelve years ago.

“Better get going,” Michael informs Ashton when he returns to his position. 

“High school already, I can’t believe it,” Ashton says breathlessly. “How’d he get so big, Mikey?”

Michael shrugs and kisses Ashton’s lips sweetly. 

With a final sigh, Ashton throws the covers off of them and stands up. He stretches and makes his way around the bed, kissing Michael again before he disappears into the bathroom.

Michael sits up slowly, rubbing gently at his tired eyes. He drops his hands to his lap afterwards, and his eyes land on the glass box on his bedside table. He takes the locket out carefully, mindful not to clink the metal against the glass. 

The clasp is loose with how many times he’s opened it over the past years. Calum’s face stares back at him from inside, one arm wrapped around Michael and the other around their child, a bright, youthful smile on both of their faces. 

The picture still makes Michael’s heart clench, still leaves the faintest ache in his chest. He doubts it’ll ever stop happening, but it’s okay. 

It’s okay because Calum kept his promises. He came back to him, and he came back to Ashton, too. 

He’s with them both, and Michael sees it when he looks at his husband and when he looks at his son. 

And he sees it when he looks at the tiny, worn out photo of Calum smiling back at him, just like he always does.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to tell me what you think :)
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://lilacpages.tumblr.com) if ya want


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